


Better Dig Two

by midnightandahalf



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightandahalf/pseuds/midnightandahalf
Summary: 'Til death do us part may work for some people, but not for Steph and Ranger. When a new threat looms, Steph takes matters into her own hands to make sure that either they both make it out alive, or neither do. One-shot, Babe HEA. Loosely inspired by the song of the same name by The Band Perry.
Relationships: Ricardo Carlos Manoso/Stephanie Plum
Kudos: 8





	Better Dig Two

No matter which way I looked at it, one or both of us was going to die.

If we both made it out of this alive, I'd kill him myself. If I didn't get a chance, then so be it, but I was going to go down fighting. God knows how many times Ranger had resigned himself to the same fate for me. It was about time I repay the favor. But before I could storm the castle, I'd need to stage an escape.

Subterfuge or good old-fashioned persuasion were the only two choices I could see. Although I'd gotten pretty darn good at fibbing during my years on this earth, I also knew that persuasion would come with an added bonus of having some extra guns at my back. Where I was going, extra guns would be very welcome.

"Is something burning?" Lester made a show of sniffing the air before his gaze landed back on me. "I could fry an egg on your head. You'd better give those gears in your mind a rest before you break something."

"The only thing in danger of being broken is your face," I assured him.

Lester chuckled, and Bobby joined in from his post near the door. Tank's eyes flicked in our direction, but they were devoid of amusement. His attention went back to the laptop open on the counter in front of him. He was perched on a bar stool that looked like it may succumb to his weight at any moment. Lester was beside me on the loveseat, his CAT boots propped up on the coffee table. Bobby had hauled the other bar stool over to the door and was sitting with his back leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

The room was too small to be a proper living room or kitchen, and yet somehow managed to be both. It would've felt tight for four people cohabitating, even when those people were of normal girth. As it was, it felt stifling. That may have had more to do with the men's unyielding attitudes than it did with their physical presence.

"Found them," Tank announced.

I leaped to my feet and was hovering over Tank's shoulder in two strides, trying to peer at his computer screen. "Where?"

"Hamilton Township." Tank angled his laptop so I could see the satellite image. It was a bird's-eye view of what appeared to be a McMansion. The sprawling house had white siding and black trim, a wrap-around front porch, and a back deck that included a hot tub. The entire property, which looked to be at least an acre, was encircled by a six-foot wrought iron fence with a gate at the driveway.

"Seriously?" I'd been expecting an abandoned warehouse at best, or the Delaware River at worst. "It looks like Barbie's Dream House."

"Hal and Woody did a drive-by and confirmed six heat signatures inside," Tank said. "Seems they're holding him in a room on the first floor, towards the back of the house."

"IDs?" Bobby asked. He maintained his post at the door, though Lester had gotten up to join us at the computer.

"Silvio tracked the sender's email address and got a hit," Tank said. "Name's Nikol Sarkisian, and he used to be a translator contracted by the US Army. Ranger's unit worked with him a few years back."

"What happened?" I asked. Something must have, for this Sarkisian guy to have turned sour.

"Don't know," Tank replied.

"And the others?" Bobby asked.

Tank shook his head. "No other IDs yet."

"Freaking idiot," I mumbled, not for the first time.

Ranger hadn't hesitated to run headlong into the trap that had been set for him. All they'd needed to do was send him a few photos of me. Across the street from the bonds office, through the window at my parents' house, across the parking garage at Rangeman. Each photo that Silvio had uncovered featured a tiny red dot on my head. Silvio told me that the red dot was photoshopped, but it looked real enough to make my stomach feel queasy.

Queasy or not, I'd like to think that I would've known better than to run off to greet my stalker, half-cocked and alone. I knew better because Ranger had taught me better. Guess the saying was true; those who can't do, teach.

I still couldn't decide what I was more pissed about; that he'd made a hostage of himself, or that he'd made a hostage of me. One minute I'd been flipping through channels, wondering when Ranger was going to be home and wondering if I should eat dinner without him. The next minute, Tank had barged in and quite literally swept me off my feet. That was another thing I was pissed about, that Tank had a key fob to our apartment and I'd never known. Before I knew it, I was being shoved into the backseat of an SUV, sandwiched between Bobby and Lester while Tank drove us to this godforsaken safe house.

Apparently Ranger had contingency plans that went into effect in the event that he was ever captured. The plans included lockdown of all Rangeman routine patrols and transfer of leadership to Hal, with Ram as his second-in-command. I would've thought that the honors would've gone to Tank or Bobby, but nope. Because there were other plans for them. Evidently Ranger had thought it was okay to instruct his core team to kidnap me. They were under strict instruction that in the event Ranger were ever incapacitated, they were to immediately transfer me to a safe house and remain with me 24/7 until the threat was eliminated.

Yeah. We were going to have words about that.

But first, I needed to get Ranger out of there. "What's the plan?" I asked.

Tank swiveled on his stool to look at me and shrugged a massive shoulder. "That's for Hal and Ram to decide."

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly fell over, and probably would have if Lester hadn't reached out to steady me. "Come on. I know that you're all itching to get out of here as much as I am."

"We have our orders."

"Well…" Lester drawled.

Tank shot him a stone-faced look over my shoulder, and that shut him right up. But I knew that Les was my weak link, so I focused my efforts on him. "This is stupid. We've already figured out who and what the threat is, and now we even know where it is. There's no need to keep me locked up here."

"Ranger will kill us if we let you out early," Les said.

"He won't get a chance if he doesn't make it out of there," I pointed out. Lester had the weakest blank face out of all the Merry Men, and he flinched. I pressed on. "And even if he does, I'm going to kill him first. He won't have a chance to get to you."

Lester sighed. "Do you understand why he made us promise to guard you if something like this ever happened?"

"Because he still doesn't think I can take care of myself."

"Because you're a weakness," Les confirmed.

My blood was boiling and red was starting to creep in at the edges of my vision. I'd be surprised if my fingernails didn't draw blood from where they were digging into my palms.

"Watch yourself," Bobby warned. "She isn't picking up what you're putting down."

Tank jumped in. "No one is saying you're weak, Steph."

I opened my mouth to argue that that was exactly what they were saying, but Les raised his eyebrows. "Shit, Beautiful. That's not what I meant. You know better than that, and so do I. You think I'm that bad of a trainer, that after all that time I spent with you on the mats and on the range, you'd be anything less than kickass?"

"You're Ranger's weakness," Tank corrected. "Anyone who has it out for him would know that all they'd have to do is get to you, and they'd have him by the balls. He'd do anything they asked of him."

"And Ranger isn't the kind of guy that anyone wants to see being controlled by an enemy," Bobby said. "He's a powerful weapon."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, unclenching my hands. I could sort of see where they were coming from, but the fact remained that Ranger had gone overboard. Which, granted, he was often prone to do when it came to matters of safety.

"Doesn't it piss you off, though?" I looked at each of them, turning slowly for the full panorama of the room. "You're arguably Rangeman's top three men, and your orders in cases of emergency effectively sideline you."

Tank just studied me impassively. Bobby looked confused, and Lester shrugged. It had never occurred to any of them to question Ranger's directive. Orders were orders, plain and simple.

"I'd much rather you be out there, protecting him and all of us from the threat, rather than cooped up inside with me."

"Hal has it covered," Tank said again.

"How are they going to get to him?" I demanded, pointing at Tank's computer screen. "Look at that place! You can't tell me that whoever lives there hasn't invested in airtight security. And these guys are clearly professionals. They managed to snap photos of me from inside the Rangeman parking garage, and no one noticed they were there."

All three men looked uncomfortable. Lester shifted his weight from one foot to another. "They're good," he admitted.

"You already know how this is going to go," I argued. "Hal is going to need to figure out how to remote in to scramble the security cameras. That's already going to cost us precious time that Ranger may not have. Then he's going to have to rely on force rather than finesse. His only option is to try to overwhelm them with numbers. He won't have any element of surprise on his side, and what's to stop Sarkisian from just killing Ranger before our team can get to him?"

Their silence was confirmation enough. I bore down on each of them with the weight of my accusing stare, waiting for one of them to crack. To my surprise, it was Tank. He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. "So what do you propose?"

I smiled. "Glad you asked."

###

An hour later, some of my bravado had worn off. Which was really poor timing, since I'd just pulled up to the curb across the street from the McMansion. In an unfortunate example of the saying 'be careful what you wish for', Ranger's fate now rested in my hands. Oh boy. My palms were sweaty, and I didn't even have enough fabric on my legs to wipe them off. My mini dress was so teeny-tiny that it would really be better classified as a shirt.

The irony was practically painful. Ranger and his team had spent countless hours over the past couple of years whipping me into fighting shape, and yet after all of our combined efforts, the best plan I'd come up with on short notice was for me to play the bimbo. Again.

I was carrying my Ruger LCP in a thigh holster which I'd hiked up practically to my doodah. Even so, I'd had to choose the flesh-colored holster, since one wrong move would have me flashing the room. But hey, I guess that's all the better for the distraction plan, right?

All the training in the world still wouldn't have given me a snowball's chance in hell of taking out five men all on my own in the blink of an eye, so in order to get inside, we'd have to take a different tack. We were subscribing to the theory that if you can't beat them, distract them. I'd had the displeasure of knowing a few men who were easily distracted - had even been married to one of them for all of about fifteen minutes - and I liked to think that I'd learned a few things along the way. Short skirt, lots of cleavage, and extra mascara tended to do the trick.

A disembodied voice sounded in my ear, courtesy of a tiny flesh-colored earbud. My hair was fluffed out around my face to hide it. "Doing okay, Steph?"

I gulped, then spoke into the wire taped between my breasts. "Yep. Heading in."

"We've got your back."

I knew that was true, and it helped. But the overriding priority of getting Ranger the hell out of there was the only thing that propelled me forward. I teetered up the driveway in my wholly impractical, sky-high heels and squeezed through a gap between the iron rungs of the main gate. When I was through, I paused to tug my dress back down over my butt before I continued up the path to the front door.

Trying to look as if I owned the place, I kept a single-minded focus on my destination. My fingers clutched my glittery little pocketbook tightly while I raised my free hand to ring the doorbell. I pasted on a smile and bent down to put my face in front of the security camera, giving it a little wave.

No one answered, so I leaned over and rang the bell three more times in rapid succession. After a few more seconds, I did it again to drive the point home. I wasn't going away. The door finally swung open and I found myself face-to-chest with a hulk of a man. He wore dark jeans and a black blazer over a black t-shirt, and he screamed Muscle-4-Hire. His blazer was stretched tight across his shoulders and I could see the imprint of his gun in a shoulder holster. Clearly he needed to find a better tailor.

"Ohmigod!" I went in for a hug, surprising him enough that he took a step back and I successfully made it over the threshold. "You must be Tomas. Becky has told me so much about you!"

The man took another step back and held me at arm's length. His gaze swept over me and was only momentarily hung up on my indecent hemline before he resumed his perusal. "Lady, I don't know you or Tomas. You've got the wrong house."

I forced my eyes wide and stepped forward again. Five more steps and we'd be to the hallway. Hector had told me I should try to get as close to the middle of the house as possible. Too bad the width of this house was nearly half a football field.

I put my hand on the man's arm and hammed it up. "Are you serious? Ohmigod. I'm so embarrassed!"

"You need to leave."

"Obviously!" I laughed and managed another small step forward, keeping Muscles within swinging distance. "I'm so sorry to ask, but do you think I could use your restroom before I leave?"

"I don't think so."

"Please?" I pressed my palms together under my chin and gave him puppy dog eyes with a side of considerable cleavage. "Normally I wouldn't ask, but it's almost an emergency. I'd be so grateful."

His gaze dropped to my breasts, and I caught his eyes starting to glaze over a bit. "How grateful?"

Gotcha. I smiled up at him and batted my lashes. " _Very_ grateful."

Muscles led me to a powder room just off the foyer and I gave him one last coy look before I closed the door. Then I leaned back against it and sucked in a breath. What now? The bathroom was only about five paces from the front door - nowhere near the middle of the house.

Hector had given me a homemade EMP generator. The idea was that I pressed the button and an electromagnetic pulse took out all the electronics in the immediate vicinity. If I could get close enough, the casualties would include the central nervous system of the home's security cameras, and hopefully the men's communication devices. Unfortunately it would also take out my only line of communication to the Rangeman teams hunkered down all around the property line. The plan was for me to issue the pulse and then do my best to lie low while Merry Men swarmed the house. Once my backup arrived, we'd have the numbers and the firepower we'd need to get Ranger and get the heck out of Dodge.

With my time in the bathroom running out, I considered my options. In an ideal world, I wanted to knock Muscles out and get him out of the way, and I wanted to do it as quietly as possible. My eyes catalogued everything available to me. Hand towel, toilet tank lid, tissue box. Not much else.

I sighed and recognized my options for what they were - undesirable. I did my best to paste a seductive smile on my face while I opened the door and found Muscles leaning against the wall across the hallway. He looked up at me and raised his eyebrows while I beckoned him forward. I held my breath while I watched him consider it. Finally he pushed off the wall and stalked toward me.

Grabbing a handful of his t-shirt, I pulled him into the bathroom with me and kicked the door closed behind him before pressing him up against the adjacent wall. He licked his lips. "I really need to get back soon."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure this doesn't take long." I thought I did a pretty good job of suppressing my shudder.

His hands were at my waist and moving north. No time to waste. I ran my palms up his chest until my hands cupped his neck on both sides. While I leaned in slowly, keeping my gaze on his lips, I started applying pressure to his carotid. I was close enough to see the alarm in his eyes when he realized what was happening. He started to cry out, and with both my hands occupied, I did the only thing I could think of to shut him up and pressed my mouth to his. Simultaneously I kneed him in the groin, hard, and that put a serious damper on his attempts to fight back. Luckily it was only another five seconds or so before he went slack. I grunted under his weight, but managed to lower him to the ground without too much of a thump. I reached into his blazer and pulled a SIG Sauer from his holster. Then I hauled him to the side so I could slip out the door.

The foyer was still deserted. I could hear the low drone of voices coming from further into the house. I slipped off my shoes, having no desire to be outed by the clicking of my heels on the tile floor. I'd never live that down. The foyer opened to a deserted sitting room on the left and a grand staircase on the right. My destination was through the dimly-lit hallway straight ahead.

I wasn't as familiar with the SIG Sauer I'd lifted from Muscles, so I traded it out for my Ruger. The SIG didn't fit nearly as well in my thigh holster, but I figured it didn't matter if there was a bulge. From here on out, my game would be more about stealth than distraction. I was more likely to need the gun, and I wanted to make sure I was holding the one I was most comfortable with.

I pulled the EMP device out of my pocketbook and with both hands armed, I started down the hallway. Lights were on in the room straight ahead. The drone started to separate into distinctive voices, and as I got closer, I could start to make out what they were saying.

"I'm going to ask one more time nicely." The man spoke with a thick accent that I couldn't place. "Call her."

The request was met with silence, followed a few seconds later by the unmistakable sound of a closed fist hitting flesh.

"Call her!" the man screamed again.

"She won't come." My heart clenched at the sound of Ranger's voice. He spoke quietly and calmly, and my knees nearly turned to jell-o. He was conscious, clear headed, and safe. For now. And it was my job to keep him that way.

"You have ruined everything!"

The volume was escalating, as was my urgency. My back was pressed against the wall, trying to cling to the shadows for as long as possible. I craned my neck out and could see that the room ahead was an open concept kitchen and living area. A man stood against the far wall, dressed just like Muscles in jeans and a black blazer. I assumed that he would be accessorized like Muscles too, with a gun in a shoulder holster. I couldn't get eyes on the other two men that I knew were in there, but that was a lower priority at the moment.

There was a closed door ahead on my right, about five feet before the hallway opened up. I rushed to it and slipped inside, gun raised in case one of the missing men was inside. But it was just an empty office. Bookshelves lined one wall, and a desk sat in the middle of the room. I could see the computer screen from where I stood, showcasing an animated screensaver.

"He's still in the living area in the back of the house," I whispered. My chin was lowered to my chest as I spoke into the wire. "I'm in an office behind a closed door on the east side of the hallway off the entry. Distributing EMP now."

"Roger that." I recognized Ram's voice in my ear. "Standing by."

I pressed the button on the EMP generator in my hand and watched the computer screen on the desk blink into darkness.

Almost immediately, voices rose from the other room. I couldn't make out much, but I did hear someone say "Check it out" just before I heard hurried footfalls through the hallway as someone rushed toward the front door. There were a few suspended moments of quiet, and then much shouting ensued. The shouting was in stereo, coming from the front of the house and the back.

I wasn't sure how long it would take the Merry Men to descend upon the house, but I knew I wasn't interested in waiting a single second longer. I threw open the door to the office, using it to shield my back while I sighted down the hallway toward the front of the house. The foyer appeared empty.

I turned tail and ran toward the living area where I'd last heard Ranger. I registered voices yelling at one another and subconsciously used them to mentally place the men in the room, so by the time I flew around the corner and into the open, my gun was aimed. In the space of a couple heartbeats, I recognized the man I'd seen against the wall earlier. Muscles 2. He had his gun in his hand and I watched while he turned it on me, but before he could raise it, I shot him in the leg and he went down.

While I was running to him, my gaze swept over the rest of the room. Ranger was kneeling on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back. His eyes met mine, and then he was in motion. In an instant, he propelled himself upward and dug his shoulder into the gut of the man who was standing over him, throwing him off balance. I had to drag my attention away when I reached Muscles 2, who thankfully was so busy writhing on the ground that he didn't put up much of a fight when I wrenched his gun from his hand.

I turned back toward Ranger, who had managed to get his flexicuffed hands in front of him and was using the length of plastic between his wrists to choke the man he'd tackled. He seemed to be doing okay, so I scanned the room looking for the third man. No one jumped out of the shadows and yelled 'Boo!', so I turned back to Ranger. By the time I made my way across the room, he was working on getting to his feet and the other man lay unconscious on the floor.

"Are you okay?" I asked, getting a hand under his arm to help him up.

"Fine." He had a small cut on his cheekbone and his face was already starting to bruise. I could guess by the way he let me take some of his weight that his face wasn't the only part of him that was hurting. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Might need you to run it by me once or twice."

Uh-oh. That wasn't a tone to be trifled with. Ranger was mad. That didn't happen often, but when it did, those close to him knew to batten down the hatches. Or better yet, evacuate out of the storm's path. But not this time - if he wanted to be mad, he would have to get in line.

Voices trailed to us from the front of the house and I gathered that the cavalry had arrived. Ram, Bobby, Cal, and Lester appeared from the hallway and quickly moved to cover the two bad guys on the ground.

"Who've we got here?" Ram asked while he cut Ranger loose from the flexicuffs.

Ranger pointed to the man he'd rendered unconscious. "That's Sarkisian. I've never met the others."

Bobby left the man I'd shot, apparently having deemed him non-critical, and moved toward Sarkisian. As he passed Ranger, he lowered his voice. "What are we telling the first responders?"

"The truth is fine. Sarkisian holds a grudge against me from our time serving together. They should be able to get him on stalking, harassment, aggravated assault, and attempted murder."

Right on cue, a wave of EMTs and cops rushed into the room. Ranger and I left the bad guys in their hands and made our way toward the front door. Muscles, the man I'd incapacitated in the powder room, had come to and was having his hands cuffed behind his back by Eddie Gazarra. Muscles glared at me and muttered something that I couldn't hear, and then he let out a yelp of pain.

"Oops," Eddie intoned. "Sorry."

"Friend of yours?" Ranger asked.

"Yeah, we go way back," I told him.

Tank appeared at our side. "You good?"

I couldn't see the look Ranger gave him, but Tank took a tiny step back.

"Do you need the EMTs to look at you?" I asked Ranger.

"No."

I turned to Eddie. "Can we get out of here?"

"We've got plenty of witnesses who'll stick around for the clean-up," Tank added.

Eddie nodded at me. "Make sure that you both get down to the station tomorrow to give your statements."

We squeezed our way through the foyer and spilled out the front door. Flashing lights surrounded us and uniforms littered the yard, but we managed to weave our way through them without incident. If I'd been alone, I would've had to stop and answer at least a dozen questions, but Ranger was giving off a vibe that encouraged others to stay out of his way.

It wasn't until he winced when climbing into the passenger seat that I decided to press my luck again. "Are you sure you don't want to be checked out?"

"I'm fine, Babe." He grabbed my hand from the center console and pressed his lips to my palm. "It's just scrapes and bruises. You can patch me up when we get home."

On the drive back to Haywood, I mentally compiled my to-do list for the evening. Food was at the top, since I never did get to eat dinner. Then tending to Ranger's injuries. And after that, I'd finally get around to killing him.

We didn't speak again until we were in the elevator on the way up to seven. Ranger was looking at me contemplatively. "New dress?"

"Yep. Straight from the Bimbos-R-Us collection."

"I like it."

I rolled my eyes and fobbed us into the apartment, making a beeline for the kitchen. Ranger retreated into the bedroom while I pulled our dinner plates out of the fridge and stuck them in the microwave. The aroma of Ella's browned butter and butternut squash gnocchi with roast chicken had my mouth watering, but I promptly forgot about dinner when Ranger strolled across the living room.

He wore a pair of black sweatpants that rode indecently low on his hips, and nothing else. Usually Ranger shirtless could get my mouth watering all on his own, but I sucked air through my teeth at the sight of the bruises blooming across his ribs and back. There was a cut near the top of his ribcage and he handed me a square of gauze and a roll of medical tape. I looked at the materials in my hands and then set them on the counter while I went to retrieve the antibacterial salve that he'd conveniently forgotten.

Ranger had moved our dinner plates to the table and was waiting for me when I returned. I slathered some salve over the cut, slapped a bandage on it, and then stood on my tiptoes to give him a I'm-really-glad-you-didn't-die kiss. My mind was still mostly on dinner, but then Ranger pulled me closer and turned it into a who-needs-food-anyway kiss. I moaned into his mouth and he drew back smiling, but there was still some tightness around his eyes.

"Eat first?" he asked.

I sighed, because I knew what was next on both our agendas, and unfortunately it wasn't sex. "Eat first," I agreed.

We settled at the table and dug in, and I barely managed not to moan again at the first bite. It was almost midnight and I hadn't eaten since lunch. My plate was halfway cleaned by the time I looked back up to find Ranger studying me, chewing contemplatively.

"So what was the deal?" I asked.

"Nikol Sarkisian used to contract with the Army as an interpreter. I worked with him for a couple of years."

I nodded. "Silvio's intel told us that much. But I take it he didn't just want to catch up?"

Ranger set down his fork. "I first met him when I was supporting a security detail for the US Secretary of State for a speaking engagement at a university in Yerevan. Sarkisian was a professor there."

"How does one go from Armenian professor to US Army contractor?"

"I recruited him," Ranger said. "He speaks something like twelve languages, and I knew he'd be valuable to us."

"How did we go from you getting him a job, to this?" I gestured to Ranger's bruised and battered torso.

"After our last mission together, Sarkisian returned home to find his family killed."

My mouth went dry, and I had to force myself to swallow the piece of chicken I'd been chewing. "What? Why? How?"

"I'm told that a mutual enemy found out he was working with the US government, and wanted to teach him a lesson."

I'd feel a lot worse about that if it weren't for the black and purple splotches all over Ranger's body. "That's terrible. But what does it have to do with you?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm an easy target for his blame. I brought him in. In Sarkisian's mind, I'm the reason his family died. He wanted me to understand his pain."

Ranger kept steady eye contact, and I felt some of the blood drain from my face. "The pictures…"

He nodded.

"Why did you run off to meet him, though? And why not bring any back-up?"

His mouth drew into a tight line. "I'll admit, I underestimated him. I'd assumed he'd be working alone. I knew him once, and he wasn't a bad man. I was hopeful that I could talk to him."

"Any ideas who the other men were?" I stood and gathered my plate and Ranger's to bring back to the kitchen.

"Probably just hired guns."

After I put our plates in the dishwasher, I took a moment to steel myself. The self-righteous anger and burning indignation I'd had in spades earlier had dulled a bit over the past couple of hours. I would need to dredge them back up if I hoped to do this fight any justice.

When I turned back around, Ranger was leaning on the other side of the breakfast bar and watching me. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yep."

A switch flipped in Ranger and he stalked toward me. My baser instincts recognized the searing gaze of a predator, and my fight or flight instincts were coming back online. I directed all that energy toward fight.

We were toe to toe by the time he came to a stop before me, and then he leaned down and peered closely at me. "Your pupils don't seem to be dilated."

"Excuse me?"

"You aren't high, and you aren't drunk. I'm struggling to understand what on earth possessed you to walk straight into a house full of armed men, alone? And for that matter, how you got my men to agree to let you."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Are you wondering how I escaped captivity?"

"That too."

"The fatal flaw in your idiotic plan was to use the men who've known you the longest, who you're closest to. We were all concerned about you, so when I told them that I could take the lead on a distraction that could get a team inside to you sooner, they listened to logic."

"They're fired."

I rolled my eyes at the empty threat. "They only agreed because I told them I'd kill you myself if we got you out of there, so you wouldn't have a chance to kick their asses."

"The 'if' in that statement is my biggest issue."

"Believe me, that's not your biggest issue." I poked him in the chest, welcoming back the burning indignation that was simmering in my belly. "Your biggest issue is that you're a raging control freak!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Because I want to keep you safe? Or because I want any rescue op that's launched on my behalf to be planned and executed in a way that eliminates the 'if'?"

Well jeez, he might be onto something with that second point. Maybe we'd loop back to that later, but there were more pressing matters we needed to talk about first. "There's a difference between keeping me safe and holding me back!"

Ranger drew back, and I saw his momentary surprise melt back into frustration. "That's not what I'm doing. I would never hold you back."

"I used to think that, too, but that is what you're doing! That's why I'm so pissed at you!" I poked him again for good measure.

He moved to lean against the counter beside me, and then cocked his head at me. Though his expression was still guarded, I could see that he had resigned himself to hearing me out.

"I know that a lot of things come naturally for you. You're very good at almost everything you do, and I love that about you. But that's never been the case for me."

"You're very good at a lot of things, too, Babe," he told me. "And most of those are the things that I'm terrible at."

"I'm not looking for a pat on the back, I'm just trying to explain. For me, certain things take a lot of time and effort. And you know that I don't like putting a lot of effort into things I don't care about. So I know it took me longer than it should have to commit to a training plan, but once I did, I was all in. And I feel like I've gotten pretty good. I know I'll never be as good as you, and probably not even -"

"It's not a contest," he interrupted. "You're a good shot, and you can take care of yourself. That's what matters."

"Then why won't you let me?" I asked, exasperated.

"Did Tank explain the emergency protocol?"

"He said it's something you discuss quarterly. So I know that these orders aren't left over from years ago, before I could fend for myself."

"Did they explain why it needs to be this way?"

"Because I'm a potential weakness for you."

"Not in the way you might be thinking," he started, but I waved off his explanation.

"I'm a target for your enemies, yadda-yadda-yadda."

"This is serious," he argued. "Look at what just happened. Sarkisian was stalking you for a couple weeks, and none of us knew it until he sent those photos. Do you understand how sick that makes me feel?"

"Yes! Because I felt the same way when I realized that you were in danger - actual, present danger, not just a threat - and not only had you made sure I couldn't help, but you sidelined your best men in the process."

"Babe…" Ranger exhaled the word.

I turned to face him fully and gripped his shoulders. "Listen to me. You have never misled me. I've always known that your life comes with certain risks, from both past and present. That's why, when we got serious, I finally committed to the training."

"They're my risks. It's unfair for you to be exposed to them."

"I accepted your risks as my own when I married you. But I've just learned that I didn't have the full picture at the time. Because here I was, thinking that when a bad guy came after one of us, that we'd be in it together. And that's the same way we'd walk away - together."

"I can't ask you to take a bullet for me."

"You don't have to ask!" I cried. I spun away from the counter, my hands wringing the neck of some poor schmuck who had the misfortune of being an imaginary stand-in for Ranger. "I would step in front of a bullet for you in a heartbeat."

"That's what I'm afraid of!"

I pressed my fingers to my eyes and took a deep breath. "How many times have you stepped in front of a bullet for me?"

He was silent. Probably counting.

"Let's make this easier," I suggested. "How many times have you actually _taken_ a bullet for me? No need to think about it, because I can tell you right now - six. You've been shot six times while helping me, or saving me, or just riding shotgun on a capture. But when you're the one who needs help for a change, I don't get to be there for you. Heck, I don't even get to be in the room when your men are planning the op. I'm across town, twiddling my thumbs, holding my breath and hoping that the next time Tank's phone buzzes, it's not someone calling to tell us you're dead."

The silence was deafening. I'd turned away from Ranger during the last part of my tirade, and after a couple more moments he wrapped his arms around me from behind. I gripped his forearms and leaned back against him. He lowered his head and spoke quietly in my ear. "You're right."

That surprised me enough to wriggle out of his embrace and turn around to face him. "Come again?"

"You may be right," he amended. "The protocol was designed to keep you safe, but it may be a little extreme."

I snorted inelegantly. "You think?"

"Tank and I will meet again next week to revise the emergency plans to make sure that you're protected but can stay involved and informed."

"Try again," I warned. After a moment, I gave him a hint. "This meeting will take place between you and Tank and… who?"

"You." He was a quick study.

"Thank you."

"So I get to live to see another day?"

"Only if you help me keep my promise to Les by not killing him."

"Not today," he conceded.

I glanced at the microwave clock behind him. "It's 11:58."

"He can have the whole week, then."

"That's very generous," I agreed. Ranger wrapped his arms around me again and I melted into him. I gave myself a minute to appreciate his warm, solid presence and his steady heartbeat under my ear.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I sighed and let the last of the tension drain from me. "Me too. And I'm glad neither of us had to die today."

I'd decided long ago that I wasn't interested in living my life without Ranger in it. Most days, that meant the same thing to us as it did to other couples - to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, and so on and so forth. Days like today brought the _'til death do us part_ bit a little too close for comfort.

His hand slipped up under the hem of my dress and skimmed all the way to my waist. "Let's celebrate."

My skin broke out in goosebumps, and then Ranger lowered his mouth to mine. Not a bad way to ring in a new day.


End file.
